Something Fishy
by lionor
Summary: Leonard McCoy screws up and a tragic death ensues. And who can he call for help but Jim Kirk? Coauthored with Avenginghunters.


It was a lazy Monday afternoon and Jim was bored. He worked nights these days and rarely had anyone to talk to during the day. Chekov, Uhura, and Sulu were all still in school, Spock worked, and Bones….well, Bones was either working or with Joanna or generally not with Jim. He didn't know what had happened, but their friendship had grown strange about a month ago. And of course by then Jim was graduated and in a proper real-life job, with no one to share it with.

Leonard McCoy was a terrible father. A terrible, evil, careless father with a dead body on his hands and no one to blame but himself. "Shit shit shit shit shit." He paced the living room floor. The clock on the stove read a quarter to two, forty-five minutes before Joanna would come home and see what he'd done. He only got her every other weekend and he just had to screw that up. He had to fix this.

Before he knew it, Leonard was at the phone. He had to call someone to help him. A damn world-renowned surgeon and he couldn't handle this himself. Two rings and he picked up. "Hey, Jim."

Jim did not expect Leonard McCoy's voice on the other end. Before he could censor himself, he asked, "Shouldn't you be working or parenting or something? Shit, I mean, um, hey, Bones. It's been awhile. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I killed him." A brief silence on the other line made Leonard's stomach drop. Surely Joanna would forgive him.

Jim forgot all other circumstances of their slightly strained relations. "Hold on Bones. I'll be over in 5 minutes." It was a ten minute walk, but a two minute drive, and whatever the matter, it sounded pressing. The car roared to life. Jim's heart was racing-had Leonard lost a patient? The thought even briefly crossed his mind that Bones had killed Spock: _I mean, Spock can be overbearing sometimes, but murder?_

Leonard paced the living room waiting for Jim. Despite the issue at hand, Leonard couldn't help but feel some of the old butterflies come back to him. He'd had to distance himself from Jim for a bit to get his head on straight about his feelings toward the man, and it had worked, but they were all resurfacing very quickly until he finally heard a knock on his door.

Jim stood outside Leonard's door, tapping his foot impatiently. He heard Bones scramble for the door, and his foot-tapping speed increased, fueled by nerves. _Who is dead, who is dead, who is dead?_ "Bones! Bones, what is going on? Who did you kill? What the hell is happening? Are you all right? Is Joanna all right?"

Leonard pointed to the bathroom.

Jim shook his head in horror. "Dude. What the hell is going on?"

Leonard closed his eyes. "Just. Look."

"God, Bones, I'm gonna be honest, I'm terrified of what is in there." He took a few hesitant steps toward the bathroom. "Please assure me that you and Joanna are both okay and that you didn't actually kill anyone."

Leonard shook his head and kept pointing. "Please," he begged, eyes slowly brimming with tears.

Jim felt his own eyes blur. "Anything for you, man. I guess I'm here now. Look, if it's real bad, I'm here for you. I will help you through whatever this is."

"Jim, goddammit, just look in the bathroom. We don't have much time."

Jim nodded and strode resolutely into the bathroom. He could hear his heart thudding and every color seemed too bright. He expected to see blood, a body, a sight that would haunt him. He saw nothing. "Bones. What the hell. There is nothing in here."

Leonard had followed Jim into the bathroom. "Toilet," he choked. "Look in the toilet."

"Bones, I really, really don't want to look in the toilet."

"Do it, Jim."

"Fine." He took a deep breath. Floating in the water was a small goldfish. It was belly-up and beginning to turn grey around the fins. "Is this what you wanted me to see? A dead fish? You called me nearly in tears for a dead fish? This pathetic little goldfish is the reason I almost crashed my car driving here? This is why I about had a mental breakdown on your doorstep as I imagined who could have died? This is a goldfish, Bones. A goddamned goldfish."

"This isn't just a goldfish, Jim. This is Joanna's goldfish. She asked me to take care of it when she was at her mom's house and I killed it." Bones felt suddenly silly, but this was important to his daughter. He didn't get a whole lot of time with her since his divorce, and letting her down seemed like all he was capable of lately. "What do I do?"

"Um, well, it's obviously beyond your doctoring skill. And your pet care skills are not up to par. But to tell Jo that would break her heart. So…we have to get her a new fish. Get her one exactly like this and make up answers if she asks any questions. I promise never to tell on you and it will be fine. Now flush the toilet."

Bones wasn't a religious man, but he did say a few words for the loss of Denise the goldfish before he flushed the toilet. It was done.

"Thanks, Jim. I don't know what happened to me there for a second. I guess I just wanted to see you." Bones froze after he turned to face Jim. Months of carefully constructed walls between them had suddenly fallen, all for a stupid goldfish.

Jim closed his eyes for a moment. "Yeah. Missed you too, Bones." It hurt to hear him say that. They'd never fought, nothing had ever gone wrong, but one day Jim had looked up and realized that Leonard was pushing him away. He was so glad to hear his voice again, see him again, but his relief annoyed him simultaneously. "But come on, man. What was with the whole, 'I don't even have time to call you these days' act? I…I really did miss you."

"I just…" For nearly the first time in his life Leonard was speechless. He had to tell him the truth. The separation was killing him, and James didn't appear to have taken it well either. "Listen, I like you James T. Kirk. I haven't felt this way since I met my wife, and it's terrifying. You're too young and you've got too much to live for. You don't deserve the affections of a grumpy old divorcee who can't even keep a fish alive for a week."

Jim let out a laugh that sounded suspiciously sob-like. "Bones. Listen to me. The fact that you are a fish killer means nothing to me. You kept me alive for a lot longer than a week, let me tell you. So don't try to get rid of me again, okay? Because…because I care too much about you for that." He laughed again. "But like you said, we don't have much time. We need another fish."


End file.
